


Ghostly Gods

by nicostolemybones



Series: solangelo week 2019 one shots [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, god au one shot, nico and will are gods who become camp directors, nico and will visit camp a lot, nico is the god of shadows mourning and acceptance, will is the god of sunshine comfort and recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-05-19 11:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19355893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicostolemybones/pseuds/nicostolemybones
Summary: Nico and Will are gods who become camp directors. One shot for Solangelo week that I will one day turn into a fic. Posted to tumblr on nicohasahappymealI do not give permission for my work to appear on any apps nor do I consent to my work being reposted anywhere. If you see my work outside of my tumblr or outside of any blogs/accounts I mention in my fics, please report/contact them or inform me. If you report them, do not report as if it were your own work.My tumblr is @nicohasahappymeal





	1. Chapter 1

It was a strange occasion- two gods were expected to arrive at Camp Half Blood to help manage it, although they sounded like polar opposites so nobody was particularly looking forwards to the occasion. Plus gods were usually jerks. Chiron hadn’t told them much about the gods, other than the fact that he was proud to have mentored them once and the fact that one was a child of Apollo and one was a child of Hades. Everybody was gathered by Half Blood Hill, dressed in their orange tshirts but still attempting to appear smartly and neatly. The god of sunshine, comfort, and recovery was going to be the first to arrive- followed by the god of shadows, mourning and acceptance. Chiron had managed to settle the nervous demigods- although they still talked amongst themselves and speculated. 

They found it strange that the ghost that haunted the Hades cabin wasn’t there- or at least, who they thought was a ghost. A young boy who would sometimes appear in the darkest shadows whenever young demigods went exploring in there. Sometimes they’d spot the boy standing near the campfire, talking to Hestia, or in the infirmary when a patient would pass.  
In fact, two boys usually appeared when a patient passed. The first boy seemed to glow and radiate care, and he’d always sit besides the dying patient and hold their hand, gently singing soothing lullabies. Then the ghost boy would appear from the shadows and pray to Hades for their safe passage through the Underworld, and he’d sit with the mourning campers. The glowing boy seemed just as ghostly as the first, but in a different way. Whilst the black haired boy would fade into the shadows, the blond boy would fade into the light. Sometimes he’d be seen coaxing the other ghost boy out of the shadows, following him and leaving sunflowers by the door to the Hades cabin. Neither boy was there today, and the camp had to admit that they were slightly disheartened by their absence. 

The camp soon fell silent as a chariot became visible- it was hard to miss, white adorned in intricate gold mandalas shaped into suns. Two pegasi pulled the chariot- pure white with golden manes and tails, a warm yellow glow around both. The chariot passed through camp boarders and slowly came to a stop by the old pine tree- it had always been called Thalia’s tree- they’d only learned today from the Huntress herself why. The campers awaited nervously for the god to step out of the chariot- they assumed this must be the god of sunshine, comfort and recovery. They expected the god to be clad in white and gold, perhaps with wings and a halo. Instead, a man who appeared to be in his early twenties stepped out, promptly tripping up when his flip flop snagged on a rock. He quickly stood and brushed himself off, turning to face the demigods with a fond smile. He wore khaki shorts with a green scrub top underneath an open lime green flannel shirt and a yellow lab coat with a sunflower pin badge with neon orange flip flops. He had striking cobalt blue eyes, although on closer inspection they were a gradient, from royal blue to cobalt to cerulean to azure to sky blue on the innermost parts of the iris, ice blue flecks throughout. He had short golden blond hair, thick bouncy curls cascading down just past the top of his ears, highlights of gold that seemed too golden to be natural yet they were, the sunlight radiating from his soft curls. Pale skin tanned a healthy bronze hue, sunlight reflecting off his cheekbones as though he wore highlighter, which he didn’t. A constellation of light brown freckles dusted across his nose and cheekbones like you could play a melodic symphony from the patterns weaving across his cheeks. He looked like an older version of the blond ghost boy. 

“Hi,” he began, “I’m William Solace, god of sunshine, comfort and recovery, but you can just call me Will. I used to go here when I was a young demigod, I’m a son of Apollo. I was head medic for a while, I fought in both Titan wars and I was around back when Apollo was turned mortal for a while. You’ve probably seen me around camp, I come here a lot. Please, don’t be afraid to approach me, I’ll always try to find time for you, even if you just need a hug, I’m here. Anyway, I’ll introduce myself properly once the god of shadows, mourning and acceptance arrives and we’re around the campfire.” 

So, the god- Will- was the blond ghost boy they’d seen around camp. He radiated comfort- Solace was a fitting name for him, it seemed. Even now, stood before them as a god, he dressed so casually- some may argue badly- that he seemed approachable. Something about his serene and relaxed posture and his warm smile made you want to hug him, because he looked like he could heal your soul with a hug and a few kind words. He seemed to glow, like sunshine radiated off him.

It wasn’t long before the warmth seemed to fade- the ground frosted and withered from afar, creeping closer in darkened shadows as a fissure ripped open- they would have screamed and ran if it wasn’t for the calm radiating from the blond god. Large bones began to emerge from the fissure, rolling over each other until they began to form skeletal hellhounds, tendrils of darkness swirling and wrapping around each other to form a chariot of shadows and bones. The camp waited in fearful anticipation until eventually the shadows began to form a vaguely human shape, slowly forming a more solid figure as they moved to stand beside Will. The shadows snaked away in tendrils, slithering back to the chariot to reveal the god of shadows, mourning and acceptance. He wore a long black leather trenchcoat, thick silver chains forming a trellis on the back, pulling it to fit snugly around the god’s waist. It reached to mid calf, but the collar was a thick brown fleece, like an aviator’s jacket. He wore a black tshirt, a fractured skull pierced by a dagger with blood dripping, a ghastly blue snake wrapped around it and peering from the eye socket, mouth open and dripping venom ready to strike, blue roses completing the tattoo-style design. The god wore black ripped jeans, plaid with red, purple and green. His boots were chunky leather, up to mid calf and laced loosely, the laces passing through the soles, purple leather flames at the toes and heels, inch thick soles with metal plates, and buckles partway up with a new rock metal logo on the tongues. A gold metal chain with skulls forged into the metal was threaded through his belt loops, from which a stygian iron sword hung, glowing a faint but ominous purple. The god’s eyes were dark brown, like brown glass, but they seemed to be woven with flecks of gold and red and green, only visible in sunshine. His hair was ebony, thick waves falling past his jaw and a fluffy fringe partially covering his eyes. He wore a silver skull ring, on his left hand on the middle finger, although a purple gemstone, most likely amethyst, formed the top of the skull. He was deathly pale, a slight olive undertone just about the only sign that he wasn’t a ghost.

“Nico di Angelo,” the god introduced, curtseying out of politeness, offering a rather unsettling lopsided smile, “the Ghost King, son of Hades and god of shadows, mourning and acceptance. I'll be joining Mr Solace as a camp director, although you have most likely seen me around camp near Cabin 13." 

So this god was the other ghost boy. It seemed strange- the other ghost boy was so much more youthful, emo at most, more mysterious than completely terrifying like the god stood before them. This god radiated death, literally- the grass died under his feet, but he had a sombre aura about him, like he was mourning. The shadows and the mourning made sense, although a few demigods were sure this god was more intimidating than Hades himself. It only occurred to them why he was the god of acceptance when he moved to hook his thumb in his jeans' pocket, exposing a rainbow bandana at his hip where his sword hung, and a small heart rainbow pride pin on his tshirt. 

Nobody spoke or dared to move, sure that the two opposing gods would spend their time at camp arguing heatedly. It wasn't until Will produced a sunflower from his pocket and handed it to Nico that people remembered how the two gods interacted in the form of the ghost boys. Nico brought the flower up and inhaled the scent, a light pink tint spreading across his cheeks as he closed his eyes for a second, smiling as he tucked the flower into one of his pockets, next to a silver exposed clockwork pocket watch. Will beamed, reaching out to take Nico's hand- and that's when everybody noticed the marital bands on their hands, identical black Celtic knots, a single round cut diamond in the centre. Except the diamonds were both a yellow half and a white half- it was clear that there had originally been two diamonds, one yellow for Will and one white for Nico, cut rounded then split in half so that both men had a single stone set in the middle of their rings- half yellow and half white. The two gods were married. 

The camp couldn't wait to learn all about the gods' lives, to get to know the couple, hear how they fell in love and why they became gods. It was turning out to be the start of something amazing for Camp Half Blood.


	2. the place we once called home is foreign to us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: reflection on mortality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got popular on Tumblr and people wanted more so guess what? This is gonna be a long fic now!

Of course, Nico and Will had stayed around camp after receiving godhood, but now, walking towards the cabins, it became blindingly obvious how different everything was. It wasn’t necessarily that the architecture had changed- after all, even when it had, Nico and Will had been around to notice. But now, not wrapped up in each other and trying to relive their youths, they were able to notice how different the people were. It felt weird to be walking towards the campfire, because it was so familiar yet so foreign. Because they were used to Percy and Annabeth and Jason and Cecil and Lou Ellen and Kayla and Austin and Lacy and Mitchell and Drew and Leo and Piper and Harley and Jake and Nyssa and everybody else they grew up with- it wasn’t the camp they recognised, because that camp was dead. 

Hestia was the only face apart from Chiron that Nico or Will could recognise, greeting them like old friends and disappearing into the background once more. Nico seemed to withdraw, shrinking back into the form of a fifteen year old boy with an oversized aviator’s jacket and ripped black jeans, fading closer and closer into the shadows. Will was thriving in the excitable and nervous buzz of the campfire, leading the traditional campfire songs with his ukulele. The campers took to him instantly- he seemed to have a way of calming the nerves of even the most anxious campers. It was easy to forget that Will was a god when he was like this- Will seemed to embody all the positive traits that made up humanity. The faint warm glow encompassing him made him difficult to ignore- people found themselves drawn to him no matter what, even the most broken campers finding solace in his company. 

Whereas Nico was invisible and cold and closed off, because becoming a god, being near infallible, didn’t take away the fact that Nico was deeply uncomfortable in these situations. He didn’t know anybody, and he could tell he had nothing in common with most of them. Making friends through shared circumstances almost never bodes well, forming too fast and too fickle, only to find that the similarities you share are superficial, surface level, sheltering you from seeing the toxicity of the people who claim to care but don’t. He rather liked being invisible today, but the way people looked through him, he wondered if he’d turned into a ghost for good. It was only Will reaching out and pulling him gently into the light of the campfire that Nico felt visible, and a part of him was glad- it wasn’t that Nico didn’t want to talk or interact with the campers- but rather he was so used to his own company or the same company that he’d forgotten how to meet people, how to strike up a conversation- the shadows never made for good small talk after all. He was surprised with how at ease everybody was around him now- that’s when it finally hit him that they seemed to be used to the aura of death and decay just like Will was- there were Hades campers here, blended in, conforming innocuously with the neon orange crowd. He smiled inwardly- acceptance always struck close to home with Nico, who had to fight to be accepted. 

A solemn wave of pity made a nest in Will’s heart- these were temporary people, with temporary lives and temporary consciousnesses and temporary legacies. Nico was used to death- it didn’t seem to bother him anymore- knowing that everybody he knew would die, because death was his territory, and he’d accepted it. But Will didn’t think he could ever accept death- he’d become a god to avoid it. He didn’t want to be a puppet of bones summoned to dance the danse macabre by a curious necromancing demigod for entertainment. He didn’t want to have his skull sat upon a camper’s desk as a memento mori, an empty hourglass and a reminder of mortality. He didn’t want to be a tool to be summoned to fight with regardless of what he believed in or wanted to fight against like all the other skeletons. And Will couldn’t help but see every camper the way Nico had once described people- as living corpses. They were all temporary, to be washed away if he should chance to close his eyes, and he couldn’t save them from that. He couldn’t help but think about the organs within, just biological mechanisms, cells using chemical messengers, every thought just an action potential somewhere deep inside their brains. Just skeletons inside an illusion of life, being puppeteered like marionettes by charged impulses rapidly firing through a lipid organ. Will wished he could take away the existential fear he remembered having as a mortal, but all he could do was comfort the dying, because everybody, no matter how healthy, was slowly dying.

Nico had accepted their mortality, his own once, his sister’s, his friend’s, Will’s once. So Nico saw the life inside them, he saw it burn with passion, a cause to fight for, because every person was temporary, and every person deserved to have their voice heard, to have their identity worn proudly, to stand up and change things for a hope of a better world for the next generation. Nico saw and understood and accepted them before he knew them, because he’d seen asphodel, seen the chattering husks that called themselves somebody but couldn’t remember who that somebody was. Asphodel wasn’t full of morally grey people, it was full of those who had no acceptance, who had to stay silent, who weren’t allowed to make a difference and weren’t allowed to live their own lives. It was full of people who were scared to die, and had to stay silent to stay safe. He’d always said; ‘your voice is your identity. If you don’t use it, you’re halfway to asphodel already’. He remembered when he couldn’t use his voice, when he was too scared, too alone, too hurt to stand up proudly, too full of self hate to accept himself. And he remembered how glorious it was when he did accept himself, when he paraded unapologetically, when he allowed himself to love, to protest, to riot, to fight back. He remembered how alive accepting himself made him feel despite how dead the hate tried to make him feel. He remembered the buzz of being free, and it reminded him that even a temporary life was a life worth accepting, if only for a short moment of comfort.

The campfire was a place of comfort, of stability, of reassurance, a place where everybody was accepted and everybody was allowed to be bitter about the sting of rejection from their families. It was a place Nico and Will had the most fond memories of- there was something about the way even the most anxious or shy of campers were able to find their voices, something about the way everybody came together that felt like home, reflected in the homefires kindled in Hestia’s eyes. Will liked the campfire because it felt like comfort, and Nico liked the campfire because it felt like acceptance- the two weren’t binary opposites after all, people realised, in fact they had a lot in common. Nico had been a soldier, a martyr, and Will had been a healer, a service- both had been resources to exploit, both had been the boy who couldn’t cry, who when they broke, they exploded in a supernova of mirror shards, each shard reflecting the consequence of everybody’s expectations and judgments and choice to turn a blind eye to their suffering. Comfort and Acceptance were two sides of the same coin- it was impossible to truly have one without the other, and both had only truly found the other side of that coin within each other’s arms.   
“How did you find hope in all of this,” a camper asked timidly, brokenly, and nobody answered for a while. 

“Because even when the sun isn’t shining, even in the darkest of nights, the stars are a thousand suns shining just for you. And when you’re feeling alone, if you reach out to the sun,” Will began gently, summoning a ray of light from a distant star and holding the sunlight in his palm, “and you take a ray of sunshine,” he continued, placing the light in the camper’s hands and closing their fingers around it, “and you put it in your pocket,” he instructed, waiting for the camper to do so, “then you aren’t alone anymore, because the sun shines on us all, and somewhere, somebody else is feeling alone too and looking up at the sun, so you’re never truly alone, and the sunshine in your pocket will keep you company.” The camper smiled, their cheeks tinted a healthy dusty rose as they found a new hope, a new confidence, found comfort.

“What about you, sir,” the camper asked Nico, and Nico took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“I didn’t,” Nico began strongly, “I accepted that some situations are hopeless, and I learned that chasing after a ray of hope that isn’t truly there wasn’t healthy for me. Reaching towards hope that wasn’t made for me felt like the darkness was pulling me back and cutting into my soul. But when I let go of that hope, let the shadows take over and let myself fall, I found myself being pulled backwards through the shadows, only to emerge at the back,” Nico explained, summoning tendrils of shadows around his wrists and gripping them like reigns in his hands, “but from behind the darkness, I found myself at its helm, in control of this chariot of darkness within. I made my own hope, because I controlled the darkness now, it didn’t control me. I accepted it, I accepted the pain and I accepted that I couldn’t change the things I wanted to change. I let go of hope, and it allowed me to take control, to find power in the shadows that I once feared. False hope prevents us from accepting our circumstances, it keeps us wanting something more, stops us from being satisfied with who we are and what we have. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is let go of hope, but sometimes, just sometimes, accepting what you can’t change and accepting who you are is far more powerful than the relentless hunt of an elusive better life. Only once you accept what you can’t control can you begin to take the reigns and fight for a better life, but hoping for it won’t do anything but hurt you should you fall short. I go into everything with no hope for myself. I fight for what I believe in, not for what I hope for. Don’t fight or keep going for some utopian vision of the future. Accept the dystopia you’re in and learn how to use it against them, learn how to control all that rage and hate and all that darkness inside and turn it into your weapon, your voice, your identity. If the ichor of a toxic society or person or idea is causing you pain, use the burn to fuel your passion, and use their own ichor to make them face what they’ve done.”

“My mom would’ve approved,” the camper said with a small smile, and Nico noticed the eye patch worn proudly on their face.  
“Justice is a virtue favoured by the underworld,” Nico replied, “and I intend to fight for what is just, but in my own name, and in the name of those who can’t use their voices themselves. I speak on behalf of those in personal asphodel.”

“What about you,” the camper asked, turning to Will, “what do you fight for?”

“I don’t fight unless I have to,” Will said candidly, “do I stand up for what I believe in? Yes. But fight? I prefer to heal, to allow for recovery and growth. So I guess I do fight, I fight alongside those who need to know somebody out there has their back. I fight for brighter times, to be a guiding light through the darkness and to bring some warmth and compassion and comfort and recovery to an otherwise cold and bleak reality. But one thing they don’t tell you? Sometimes it’s okay to fight for yourself. You don’t always have to fight for others. Sometimes you can fight for yourself, love yourself, try to change things for the better for yourself. You have to fight for yourself, because others won’t always fight for you. You can let go of hope or cling to it, just never stop fighting for yourself, okay? Sometimes you won’t find comfort in others, sometimes you have to recover by building up piece by piece, one kind word at a time.  Believe in yourself when you can’t believe in anyone else, or anything else for that matter. The world isn’t a kind place, so fight to stay kind. Be the comfort to others you wish others were for yourself, and one day, if everybody thinks like that, hope might live again.”


	3. Purposefully innocent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update, and this is pretty short, but hey, here it is!!!

Nico and Will were a force to be admired. Godhood had not made them bitter, or arrogant. It had made them gentle, humble even, because they knew how it felt to be on the other side of mortality. They remembered how neglected and bitter they had turned, the constant sting of abandonment broken by the occasional show of care, before being left once more to face the world. They hadn’t registered that they had only been children until they stood at opposite ends of the forest, looking at the other’s ghostly forms and the children dressed in war paint behind either god. They were all so young, too young to be playing such a violent game. At least it was only a game, for them, and not a war. They had been children without a childhood, a soldier, a marytr, a healer, a service. They had been no more than cogs in the murder machine, destined to die the way they were born, in violence and bloodshed. 

Nico had died first, in a flurry of frantic sword swipes against Kampe, valiantly laying down his life to protect Will. And Will had died in a desperate attempt to save Nico’s life, cradling the body of his lover. Will had not let go of his lifeless body, even after healing had failed and drained him, and thus Will died too, his lover in his arms, and so that is how they arrived at the underworld. The only problem was Tartarus called out for Nico, beckoning him, and he was resolute on his fate- he believed he was hellbound, and thus, he was. Which created a problem, because Will refused Elysium, taking Nico’s hand and preparing to make the jump, together this time, into Tartarus. Hades would not stand to see his son back there, so of course, he hid them in the palace, until Minos leaked word to Zeus about the arrangement, and of course, Zeus was furious. Nico and Will were merely spirits, so what chance could they possibly stand against a god? Except they didn’t have to, because Hades had someone to fight for, his son, his only son to be proud of, so Hades and Zeus entered a long and gruelling war, but Hades had the entire underworld to call upon, and within a few decades, Zeus was defeated and Hades finally took his place on Olympus. Ares, disgraced by his loss, relinquished his position, and Hera, loyal by duty only, accepted defeat with Zeus. So Hades finally had a way to keep his son from Tartarus, and that place was godhood. Zeus would not make another attempt on young Nico’s life, and Apollo welcomed his son to Olympus with a proud heart. 

Of course, it was absolute chaos at first. But Hades ran Olympus with efficiency, and the two new young gods seemed to have found a penchant for mischief- after all, demigods died young and Nico and Will had been no exception. The gods took a few years to settle into responsibility, although they were no more juvenile than any of the other gods. They adjusted quickly, partly because their roles didn't require much direct interference with mortals, and partly because they weren't doing much more than was already expected of them as demigods. Will adjusted first, a kind-natured role, then Nico, to a more sombre duty. They didn't lose their humanity, rather, they adjusted well to a life of greater power, partly because they had never been power crazed as mortals, partly because they felt they could do more. Being allowed to linger in the mortal realm made things all the better for them, because they could take back their stolen youths, run around camp like spring lambs, chase each other and gift each other flowers like a young couple should.

And now they found themselves, ghostly gods, with lopsided smirks and a playful glint, ready to go head to head in Capture the Flag. As soon as the whistle sounded, they ran towards each other, laughing childishly, brandishing their swords and playfully swiping at each other. They laughed and loved and they made the shadows and the sunshine dance and for once, the game didn't seem so serious, so dangerous. Everybody followed the gods' lead, merely having fun. There were no dangerous injuries or any nasty arguments, just a bunch of children laughing and playfully trying to capture the flags. For one day, the game wasn't about war strategy or winning, it was about laughter and teamwork. 

Campfire came around quickly, and yet again, the gods joined them, still in ghost form. They looked so young and innocent people forgot that they were gods, capable of making the shadows and the sunshine dance, capable of doing anything they wanted. It was clear that their innocence was a choice, that they chose to be young, that they chose to stay away from hate and hurt in exchange for living a life where they could be free. They weren't ignoring the ugliness of life, they were merely choosing to live in spite of it, because the world is cruel, but it is only cruel because people choose to make it that way. And Nico and Will chose to be a ray of kindness and hope amongst all the hurt. They chose to stay innocent, to refuse to soil their hands with any more blood. They chose to live a life of authenticity, kindness, acceptance, the life they were always taught the world could not sustain. They chose to exist peacefully and joyfully and kindly. And they chose to set that standard for others, because they decided to lead by example.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything you guys wanna learn about them?


End file.
